She nodded, smiling as she watched him eat. He ate with a natural gusto, as if each bite might be his last. He would probably make love with the same passion, the same intensity. A woman would be loved thoroughly, completely, by Tony Pandolinni.
Libby mentally shoved these thoughts out of her head, knowing they were ridiculous and nonproductive.
She got up from the table and went into the bathroom, taking a cool, wet cloth and running it lightly over her face. She picked up the necklace from the edge of the sink and carried it back to the table with her.
As Tony finished eating, she focused her attention on the locket in the center, opening it and staring at the empty space within. “There’s got to be something we’re missing,” she muttered. “Whatever is so important, it’s not the necklace itself, and it’s not what’s on the inside.” She looked up at Tony curiously. “What could it be?”
His brow wrinkled in thought. “I wish I knew.”
Libby nodded her agreement and shoved the necklace aside.
After Tony ate, she helped him with the dishes, finding it strangely intimate to stand next to him at the sink doing something as mundane as washing dishes. His broad shoulders bumped hers as they put the dishes in the cabinets, the contact creating an electric circuit throughout her entire body.
With the dishes put away, Libby wandered the room and Tony sat at the table, tapping his fingertips on the tabletop. “Didn’t you tell me that your father taught you to bluff at poker?” he asked suddenly.
She looked at him curiously and nodded. “Lots of times Vinnie and I would play cards to pass the time when business was slow at the shop.”
Tony got up and went to the sack of items he’d bought at the grocery store and pulled out a pack of brand-new playing cards. “I thought these might come in handy.”
Libby smiled eagerly, anxious to do something, anything to take her mind off the necklace and its danger, and Tony and a very different kind of danger. She sat down across from him at the table, watching as he unwrapped the cards and shuffled them with deft fingers. “We’ll see what kind of a bluff you can pull off,” he said, a twinkle of challenge in his eyes and a lazy smile of indulgence curving his lips upward.
An hour later, the indulgence was gone as he witnessed Libby’s skill. Her eyes glittered merrily as she won yet another hand. Tony was playing poorly, and he knew he was playing poorly, but he couldn’t concentrate on the cards in his hand. He couldn’t think of anything but her scent, which seemed to invade his brain. He couldn’t focus on anything except the memory of her mouth against his, hot and wild, sweet and hungry. He’d never wanted a woman with the intensity that he wanted Libby, and he feared the only way he would be able to get her out of his system was to make love to her, wildly, passionately and completely. Then, and only then, would he be able to stop thinking about her, stop wanting her, stop obsessing on what it would be like to possess her totally.
They stopped playing cards long enough to make sandwiches for lunch, then resumed the card games, moving to gin rummy, slapjack and even go fish.
It was after dinner that Libby shoved the cards away. “If we play one more game, I’m going to be sick,” she exclaimed.
Tony sighed, heartily agreeing. Still, the evening hours stretched before them, empty and tense. He got up and paced the room, trying to ignore the fact that suddenly everything she did seemed overtly sensual, a taunting turn-on. And the fact that she was oblivious to her effect on him only heightened that effect.
“I guess I’ll go shower,” she finally said, feeling a strange tension in the air. He nodded curtly, making her wonder if she had somehow done something to make him angry.
When she was gone and the sound of the shower filled the tiny cabin, Tony got up from the table and paced the room like a caged animal. He’d never done well at wasting time. He needed action, stimulation, something to take his mind off Libby.
He threw himself back into a chair at the table, feeling a foul mood descending around him, a foul mood that could only be lifted by an intense bout of lovemaking. He stared at the closed bathroom door, imagining her standing beneath the shower spray. He closed his eyes, seeing her body, lithe and wet, nipples distended from the stimulation of the shower spray. He saw himself, also naked, sweeping aside the flimsy shower curtain, joining her in the tiny enclosure. He’d soap her body, running the bar slowly, sensually down her neck, across each of her perfectly rounded breasts, down the flatness of her stomach and into the tangled curls of her center. He could hear her moans of pleasure, feel her wet heat surrounding him, taste the essence of her as his tongue followed his hand.
He shook his head, appalled to find himself standing at the door of the bathroom, his hand on the doorknob, his body fully aroused. Damn her…damn her for making him want her in a way he’d never wanted another woman. Damn her for complicating his life. He slammed his fist against the door in a rapid knock.
She threw open the door, her eyes startled, a towel barely covering the body he’d just been fantasizing about. “What? What is it?” she asked urgently.
“I’m going out,” he said, backing away from the swirling steam that drifted out of the bathroom, backing away from the sweet, clean scent of her. “I’ll be back later. Don’t open the door for anyone but me.”
Without waiting for an answer, he flew from the cabin, once outside breathing deeply of the crisp evening air, trying to regain control over his traitorous thoughts.
Libby finished her shower, then left the bathroom, shivering slightly as she remembered the blackness of Tony’s eyes when she had opened the bathroom door and found him standing there. For a moment, for just a brief moment, she had thought he was going to grab her in his arms, throw her on the bed and have his way with her. She smiled at this thought, knowing that in having his way with her he would please her, as well.
She went over to the window and peered out. Darkness was beginning to fall and she wished Tony would come back. She didn’t like the idea of being in this room all alone.
She got into bed, not knowing what else to do. She opened up the drawer in the dresser next to the bed and pulled out the only book the room boasted. This particular copy of the Bible looked like it had been read by hundreds and hundreds of people. The pages were yellowed, some torn, and she found herself wondering about the people who had rented this room before them. Had they been hiding? Or had some been lovers, come to find a night of pleasure in an off-the-tracks motel? She bet if these walls could talk, they would have hundreds of stories, slices of lives from people diverse and similar.
Where the hell was Tony? Where could he have gone? She jumped as she heard something outside the window. A thud, as if somebody had slipped and hit against it. She froze, tensed as she waited to hear if the sound would be repeated. Seconds ticked by…minutes…and still Libby didn’t relax. She suddenly had a feeling that there was somebody, something just outside the window.
She slid off the bed and sidled across the room, holding her breath as she clicked off the light, plunging the room into darkness. All she could see was the faint outline of the window in the blackness that surrounded her.
Still holding her breath, she moved to the window and lifted the corner of the curtain a fraction of an inch. She stifled a gasp as she saw the shadow of somebody standing near the corner of the building. She closed her eyes for a moment. Let it be Tony, she prayed, afraid to look again, but afraid not to. She opened her eyes and looked once again, fear welling up in her throat as she realized the shadow couldn’t be Tony, not unless he had grown an enormous potbelly since leaving the cabin.
She allowed the curtain to fall back closed, fighting off an overwhelming sense of hysteria. Who was out there, and where in the hell was Tony? In the darkness of the room, she carefully made her way over to the cabinets, opening a drawer and rummaging around until she felt the handle of a paring knife. She knew it wasn’t exactly a lethal weapon, but at least with it in her hand she didn’t feel completely helpless. She squeezed the knife handle, realizing her palms were sweaty. She moved back over to the door, waiting…praying for Tony to return.
* * *
